#he is my son now. I would both die and kill for him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 1 month ago

Text

then send me a son

pairing: joel miller x reader

cws/tags: so much angst (w/ happy ending! i swear), discussion of suicide attempt (the canon one), suicidal ideations, losing a child, losing a parent, survivors guilt, discussions of abortion, unplanned pregnancy, p in v, oral sex, virginity loss (but it's not that big of deal/not a kink), both dealing w grief, ellie is dead, this is set in jackson post tlou pt I

summary: joel is put on suicide watch after he returns to jackson w/o ellie and reader becomes his 'caregiver' of sorts. lowkey enemies to lovers but also not bc it's kinda one-sided 'hatred'

a/n: author is pro-choice! and also understands the complexities of mental health that reader and joel do not at times (just wanted to make it clear that i understand... from personal experience... what depression is like as well as suicidal ideation).

title is from the song 'the suburbs' by arcade fire, but listen to the entirety of the suburbs (album) and funeral (album) if you want to understand my mindframe while writing this

the last sentence is a quote and i've reblogged it before but i'll find the image and post it/reblog it again

wc: 9.4k

masterlist | ko-fi | taglist

Joel is just surprised Tommy has the gall to ask, “Where’s Ellie?” when he arrives in Jackson alone.

In this world, when two people leave and only one comes back, you don’t ask because you already know what happened. You wait for that person to tell you about a miracle, and when they don’t, you know for sure.

“Heaven, if you believe in that sort of thing,” is Joel’s response.

But Joel doesn’t believe in Heaven or Hell, or anything other than ashes and dirt.

“I don’t know what to say,” Tommy says because he’d already said ‘I’m sorry’ when Sarah died, and that didn’t bring her back.

It takes a hefty amount of booze to get Joel to tell the story.

“I just hope she died for something. Then, at least, I’ll know I’m being selfish.”

I didn’t get that with Sarah, he thinks. She didn’t die for a ‘noble cause’. He doubts Ellie did either.

“You’re being put on watch,” Maria tells him the next morning – when he’s sober and asking what his duties are now that he’s back.

Life goes on, which means work goes on, so what’s my job? As long as it’s not burning bodies, I’ll be okay.

“Watch? Like I’m watching, or I’m being watched.”

“Being watched.”

He asks why, though he doesn’t need to. Tommy knows why he’s got that scar on his forehead.

“Fucking authoritarian bullshit,” he mutters, half into his pillow. “Thought you were a communist.”

“I am. And this has nothing to do with that.”

“I bet Tommy put you up to it anyway.”

“He didn’t ‘put me up to anything’.”

“But he told you, didn’t he?”

“He told me a long time ago.”

“Figures. You always knew I was a coward.”

“You say stuff like that, and then act like you don’t need help.”

“I didn’t say I don’t need help. I said I don’t want it.”

She’s silent, letting him continue. “Now let me grieve in peace, will you?”

She hums something akin to agreement, but asks for something that sounds like protest to him. “Where’s your gun?”

“Which one?”

“All of ‘em.”

He tells her because he doesn’t want Tommy or anyone else searching through all his bullshit because that’s what happens if he doesn’t give ‘em up.

“Want my kitchen knives too?” he says, almost wryly.

She takes most of them, but leaves the more blunt ones out of sympathy. He can have butter on his toast. Unless she takes the toaster so he can’t take it with him in the bathtub.

She leaves the toaster, and then, leaves him alone.

Quite frankly, he’s too old to kill himself. Sure, people do it at his age, but he’s so goddamn tired. Moreover, he knows he could get someone else to do it pretty easily. Maybe he could be a martyr. He could save someone from a clicker or a soldier. He could save someone’s life for once. But would that be enough to save his soul? To make it to Heaven and see Ellie and Sarah again?

Maybe, he would, if God really does love people the way some say he does. But if Joel was God, he’d deny himself entry.

He stays in bed for the rest of the day. Aside from the two times he eats. And once in the middle of the night to take a piss because he may be depressed, but the last of his dignity is motivation enough not to wet the bed.

He doesn’t shower or change his clothes. Not like he’s wearing a shirt anyway, just boxers ‘cause it’s too hot outside and he doesn’t want to get up and turn on the fan. Sleep doesn’t come easy, but it comes. It comes because it has to, reluctant as it is.

He wakes up to the voice of an unfamiliar woman. Quieter than Ellie or Sarah, less stern than Maria or Tess. Not like he was expecting to hear from three out of four of those women, not outside of his dreams.

You’ve always cared about people, saving lives and all that. But you’re no good with a gun, so Tommy finds a better job than patrol for you.

“You’re going to be watching my brother, Joel.”

“Like, spying on him?”

“No, like making sure he doesn’t kill himself.”

A suicidal man is nothing new, especially in this world, but Tommy’s bluntness about it is. He acts as if it’s a normal job. Like the ones in office buildings that sound wonderful even though the people who tell you about them assure you it was barely better than life is now. This new watchmen position is the same as patrol, in a way. Terrifying in the gravity it holds. You have to keep someone alive.

You can shoot deer, you can run quickly, you can hide well. You can survive on your own. But, at age 10, your mom bled out as you sat by her side. You were too weak to carry her, to dig a grave and bury her. Your survival feels unearned, but you’re no good with guns. You’d miss if you tried to do it. That’s a rare thought anyway, and surely not one you plan to ever speak aloud. They’d put you on watch too, which sounds suffocating, in all honesty.

You don’t know Joel. You’ve heard his name in passing, but you arrived in Jackson during the period of time he was gone. He was going to take some girl to some hospital for something or other.

“What about that girl?” you ask. “Is she not taking care of him?”

“She’s not around anymore.”

“Oh,” you say.

He just nods. The ‘why’ of the whole arrangement makes sense, but you’re still unclear on the ‘how’. Am I just supposed to stay in his house 24/7? Is he allowed to shower on his own? Do I have to cook or do laundry?

“Just check in on him. He’s not the most… personable, but don’t take anything he says to heart.”

Just check in on him. It sounds simpler than it will be, you know that much. Even keeping a plant alive takes more than ‘checking in on it’.

You arrive at his house around 10 AM. You assume he’ll be awake, but when you look around his living room and kitchen, you can’t find him. Oh God, you think. What if he’s…

He’s asleep in bed. You’re pretty sure. He’s lying there and there’s no evidence that anything’s wrong, but when you say his name from the doorway, he doesn’t move. So, you walk closer to him, just to make sure he’s breathing.

“Joel,” you say softly – because your other option is reaching out to touch him, and you feel that’s a little too personal, especially when he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Who the Hell are you and how did you get into my house?” he says.

“Tommy sent me.”

“Oh, so they’re making you watch me?”

“Yeah.”

You’re glad he knows about the arrangement. Maybe he’ll give you some direction on what to do with him.

“Must hate you if they stuck you with me.”

You can’t tell if he’s being ironic, but you hope so. Still, you don’t know how to respond. You decide on a simple, “I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

Though you’re alone in the room, you sit with perfect posture on Joel’s couch, looking around at the decor – or lack thereof – looking for clues about who this man is.

You think about making him breakfast, but you’d have to raid his cabinets to do so, and you’re terrified to make any missteps when it comes to Joel. You don’t think he’ll kill himself over burnt toast, but there is a persistent need lodged inside your brain to make him like you. It’s a little selfish when you should be focused on just keeping him alive, but maybe if he likes you, he’ll feel better, maybe you’ll feel better too. That’s still nothing but the ever-lingering hope in your heart. But it’s something.

He comes downstairs eventually, in a t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms.

“Good morning,” you say.

“No, it ain’t,” he says, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“Do you want me to help you with anything? Breakfast or coffee?”

“I can make my own damn coffee, kid.”

And he does. The first shred of kindness you get from him is an offer to pour you a cup.

“I’m alright, but thank you.”

He sits down in a chair across from you and sips his coffee as you watch him awkwardly.

“Are you really gonna do that all day?”

“Do what?”

“Sit there and stare at me.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“You could leave, for starters.”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

“What? You afraid Tommy’ll get upset with you?”

“A little.”

“He’s a softie. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

You are worried. Sure, you want Tommy to be happy with you, but moreover, you don’t want to leave Joel alone lest something happen to him. You might not know the guy very well, but you’d hate to see someone take their own life.

“Can I just stay here? I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

He shrugs, and you take it as a yes.

He does not need a caregiver or a watchman. He does not need you, but you look like a kicked puppy and there’s no way he’ll force you to leave. Another young girl he’ll reluctantly let stick by his side. It’s almost cruel of Tommy to send someone like you. Someone young and full of life. Someone he has a hard time pushing away.

He should’ve sent Joel a crotchety old bitch or a drill sergeant. Maybe Tommy thinks he’s doing Joel a favor by giving him a nice girl, polite and eager to please. It’s a good thing your chipper attitude irritates him. It’s the first item on the very small list of qualities that Joel dislikes.

At first, he insists on making his own food. You’re still a guest, even if he’s reluctant to have you as one. It doesn’t matter where he lives, he’ll always have been raised in Texas. He’ll always hear his mother calling him out on his lack of manners. His hospitality is force of habit.

Plus, if he lets you do anything for him, he’ll owe you something – at least in his mind. And he doesn’t want to owe anyone anything. He doesn’t want to give or get or build any kind of rapport with you whatsoever, especially since you seem to take all attention as progress, despite the fact that Joel is harsh with you most of the time.

The whole ordeal makes him feel like more of a failure than he did before. He couldn’t save Ellie, or Sarah for that matter, and now he’s being forced into his own retirement or held hostage depending on how you look at it, so he can’t even get the satisfaction that productivity brings.

He also finds himself pretty fucking bored without work. He became so used to being in constant battle, even in his sleep. One wrong move and he was dead. The worst injury he’s gotten in the past few weeks was a paper cut.

Reading was never his biggest hobby, but it’s not bad when you find the right book. Often, you’ll sit across the room from him and read a book of your own, and the silence as he relaxes into the couch is quite peaceful for a change.

No amount of peace and quiet can cure his boredom, though. It makes him antsy, and you notice. You notice a lot when your job is just staring at him, it seems.

“I found a book of crossword puzzles,” you announce.

“Congratulations,” Joel says.

“I thought since you were bored, I’d give them to you, and maybe you could do them…”

By the look on your face, he can guess that you’re regretting your words. Lest he make you cry, he accepts the book.

“Plus, it looks kind of old so I don’t know if I’d know how to do it myself,” you add.

He knows you don’t mean it as an insult, but it sounds like one, and it makes him laugh. The list of qualities Joel likes about you is already long — and buried deep in his subconscious — but he’ll have to add the fact that you can make him laugh.

“Are you calling me old?”

“Not in a bad way. You’re just older than I am.”

He flips through the book and finds that about 80% of them are done.

“Somebody did most of these already.”

“I’m sorry… maybe I could erase that person’s answers and then you could do them?”

“I think I’d still be able to tell.”

You hang your head in defeat.

“Gimme a pencil and I’ll try the ones that aren’t done yet.”

You look through his junk drawer, find a pencil, and hand it to him. He doesn’t expect you to sit on the couch next to him.

“I know you’re supposed to watch me, but you don’t have to watch that closely.”

You move away slightly, no longer looking over his shoulder.

“I was just curious about the answers.”

“I was kidding around,” he says (though, it’s only a half-truth). “Come back here.”

It takes him about a week to finish the book.

“Had to go back and fix some of the others,�� he says. “The person who originally filled ‘em out was an idiot.”

“That’s not very nice. Maybe it was a kid.”

“Kid had great handwriting, then.”

You pause, hesitating for a reason he can’t pinpoint.

“What? You want me to say sorry for calling that guy an idiot. ‘Cause I will if it matters that much to you.”

“No, no, fuck that guy, he was an idiot,” you say, clearly taking after him.

“Language, Missy,” he says, jokingly scolding you.

“Sorry. I should stop swearing.”

“It’s okay. You probably picked it up from me anyway.”

“Maybe,” you agree. You’re fidgeting, holding something behind your back, he notices.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” you say, holding it out to him. “I just figured since you finished the crossword book, I should get you more.”

He only did the crosswords for you. He never really cared for them anyway. He just wanted to make you happy — he’d rather have you content than pissy or whiny. The only thing worse than your constant insistence on getting his approval would be if you just sat there and cried all day.

He’d tried to give the book back to you, but you couldn’t do ‘em on your own since you were lacking in 90s pop culture knowledge. So, he did them, with you watching over his shoulder the whole time.

He’s about to admit this to you and hand the new one back over to you when he looks at the pages – white paper, stapled together, all drawn up in pen.

“Did you make these?” he asks, in awe of both your ability to draw perfectly straight lines, and moreover, how much you must care if you’re willing to go to these lengths. Kiss-ass behavior, he tells himself.

You nod, and he gets the sudden urge to hug you, but opts for a thank you with a smile he can’t repress.

“You didn’t have to do all this, but it’s very sweet of you.”

He considers taking back the ‘very sweet’ comment when he finds that 3 down is four letters with the prompt “grumpy old man”. JOEL fits perfectly in the blank spaces.

You go on walks, read endless books, and Joel finally lets you start taking on some of the housework. It should be nice, but you get the feeling he’s not all that happy about this situation. Not that he tells you it outright. He doesn’t tell you much at all. And you’ve tried. It’s not like you’re asking hard-hitting questions.

“How old are you?”

“56.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

He doesn’t even bother to ask the same question back to you. Sometimes, he doesn’t even look up at you when you speak to him. You know it’s the depression of losing someone close to you, you know what that feels like – the problem is, you don’t know how to fix it. You only know how to hide it.

It’s quite simple, in theory. All you have to do is give him the desire to get out of bed every day. But you don’t even know what he likes. All you know is that your presence is not high on his list of favorite things. You try and try until you swear his shitty attitude is rubbing off on you.

Tommy checks in with you periodically, asking you how things are going with Joel, and this would be the perfect opportunity for you to get out of this position, which Joel would probably love, but to spite him, you tell Tommy it’s going well.

And it is, in a way – Joel is not actively mean to you. He doesn’t insult you or argue with you, he just mostly ignores you. So, you figure if you ignore him, maybe he’ll miss your attention. Stupid teenage bullshit mindset, acting like you have a crush on him, playing some sort of push and pull game that he’s not even privy to.

But that’s not like you. That brooding behavior is all Joel, so it lasts no more than a day or so until you go back to trying, and accept the fact that he’s just an asshole. Doesn’t mean you have to be one.

You never expected to win him over with the crossword puzzles but you see the look in his eyes when you give him the homemade ones, and you know there’s something in there besides all that pain. You know that look, can’t put a name to it, all you know is that it’s a good sign, one you had yet to see from Joel.

Joel wouldn’t have thought he’d get tired of hearing someone ask, “can I do anything for you?”, constantly begging to dote on him, to care for him. The last time someone did this for him was on Father’s Day, which is an ancient holiday now, almost mythical.

But it’s been weeks of the same old shit. It has nothing to do with you. In fact, you’re probably the best ‘caregiver’ he could’ve gotten stuck with. Thing is, though, he doesn’t want a caregiver, and he’s tired of said caregiver bombarding him. It’s enough to just have her watching him like a hawk, but yapping in his ear is another thing. Because he enjoys the quiet (and because the way you ask him questions reminds him of Ellie.)

It’s a joke, a stupid joke. It’s his patience wearing thin.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask.

“Sure. A beer, maybe. And a fuckin’ blowjob,” he mutters. Yeah, that’d be the dream but it’s a joke, bordering on a jab at you.

“I don’t think we have any beer,” you say. You both know damn well there’s no alcohol in the house.

“I know.”

“And, as for the other thing- is that something that you’d want… me to do?”

“Hey,” his tone softens. “Sweetheart, it was a joke. I was messing with you.”

“Okay, so you don’t want that, correct?”

“It was a joke. I’m sorry I even said it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, sheepishly. “It’s your house, your rules, right?”

The concept of free speech in his house was one he’d brought up regarding ‘swear words’— It’s his house so he’s allowed to say ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, ‘bitch’, and every other word he could come up with, and he came up with some deep cuts just to make you laugh. Admittedly, it’s a nice sound.

“Yeah.” He thinks for a moment. “I just think that these sorts of topics aren’t appropriate for someone…”

“You know I’m an adult, right, Joel?”

“Yes, I know, but you’re still young and you seem a little innocent. I don’t want to put those types of thoughts in your head.”

“I know what a blowjob is, and I know what sex is. I just haven’t found the right person yet. That doesn’t mean I’ve never thought about it or whatever.”

You rarely snap at him, so he knows that word — innocent — must’ve been more offensive than he’d meant it. Maybe you’re not innocent. Maybe you’re just kind and a hell of a lot younger than him. Maybe it just seems like you should be.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just saying that I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“But do you want it?” You punctuate every word with a newfound annoyance.

“It’s not about that.”

“Yes it is.” You’re quite incredulous for someone who has been presented with the idea only a moment ago.

“Fine. Yes, in theory, if we were just two people who know each other, then, sure, if you offered, I’d say yes.”

“I offered.”

The way he calls you ‘sweetheart’ feels more like an insult than a term of endearment. You’d rather be ‘kid’ or nothing at all, anything less patronizing. It’s worse when he calls you innocent. You’re not innocent, you’re just nice — something that Joel is not. You’re painfully nice. You’ve heard it makes people like you. You’re still waiting on the results, though.

But, if he’d ordered you to suck him off, you’d have kneed him in the balls, and he would’ve thought twice about calling you ‘sweetheart’. The thing is, he doesn’t. Instead, he backs away from the opportunity, tells you it was a joke.

But you see two things behind his eyes: one, he wants this. He might not want to want this, but he does. More importantly, you see his genuine concern for your well-being override this desire and you realize you feel safer around him than you do around most men. That’s one of the reasons that you do give him ‘a fuckin’ blowjob’. The other being that, sometimes, before you go to bed, you can’t sleep, and a certain man comes to mind as your fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties.

When you reiterate that you offered, you exchange a long stare wherein you try to reach into each other’s souls and sort this shit out but when you both realize you can’t, Joel says, “Okay.”

And you say, “Okay.”

A new kind of tension bubbles to the surface as Joel sits down on the couch and you kneel before him.

You fiddle with his belt, eventually managing to get it undone, but Joel does the rest of the work it takes to get his pants down to his ankles, boxers too.

You’d imagined he’d be big, but that’s how fantasies work. Every man’s dick is big in your lewd daydreams, but it’s like you manifested it with Joel. You begin to feel like you’re in over your head, and though you aren’t innocent, you aren’t experienced enough to take him. But who are you to back down from a challenge?

Joel can see hesitation wash over your face for the first time. You pause, study the scene like you’re trying to decide your approach, and then you take his cock in your hand, looking up at him like you’re asking for the green light.

He gives you the go-ahead with the only piece of advice he thinks you’ll need. “Just don’t bite, and you’ll do fine.”

He probably should’ve mentioned another thing: don’t take too much at once or you’ll choke. His head lolls back and his eyes fall closed the moment your lips meet the tip of it. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t want you to feel intimidated by his presence while you’re exploring, so to speak. He lets out a low groan of approval to let you know he’s still with you.

But he’s fading into a beautiful oblivion until he hears you gag, feels you sputter and it shocks him out of that blissful feeling. His eyes snap open and he cradles the back of your head.

“Easy, easy,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

You pull away briefly and catch your breath.

“That’s good,” he says. “Breathe, baby.”

He can see you looking for instructions, so he takes your hand and helps you get a firm grip on his cock, sliding your hand up and down, and finally letting you do it on your own.

“Doin’ good, baby,” he says. “You gotta give your mouth a break sometimes.”

You’ve never gotten anything close to praise from Joel before. It’d warm your heart like nothing else if it weren’t so goddamn sexy in this context.

You nod, wipe the spit from your chin, and give your mouth a brief break, but you can’t hold yourself back forever. Soon, your lips are back on his cock, kissing from the base to the tip, flicking your tongue over the head, seeing what reactions you can get from him.

When you get into the rhythm of hand and mouth in tandem, you barely register him telling you that he’s gonna come.

You imagine it’s an acquired taste but it’s not awful. You can swallow it. So, you do, and you look up at him with a smile.

He looks like he’s woken up from a dream and he’s still getting his bearings straight, but he’s quick to stand up and take your hand.

“Where are we going?”

“To my bed.”

You’d follow him anywhere but bed does sound good to you right now. It sounds like an adventure. You don’t go into his bedroom unless absolutely necessary. You’d think he was hiding something horrible in there if you didn’t have a mutual feeling regarding your own bedroom.

“Are we going to have sex?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

“Then, what are we going to do?”

“You,” he begins. “Are going to lie back and relax.”

He coaxes you to lie down, and he doesn’t have to try hard.

“I,” he continues. “Am going to make you feel good.”

You’re fairly certain about what he means, so there’s nothing left for you to do but let him do the work. It’s just another part of the job you’ll have to learn from experience.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says.

You nod.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he says, playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Wait-” you say, sitting up, and he withdraws. “Can we kiss… first?”

He looks surprised for a moment, and you worry you’ve fucked up.

“I just feel like we should do that,” you say, much quieter.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess that makes sense.”

His hand cups your cheek and he looks you in the eyes like he’s trying to find answers somewhere in there.

“Has anyone ever kissed you before?”

“Not really, not the way I want you to kiss me.”

“Feels a bit rude of me to have put my dick in your mouth before you’d even been kissed.”

Still, he leans in and kisses you, but it’s soft, gentle. It’s not a peck on the lips, though, it’s more. It gradually gains momentum and passion. Eventually, he slips his tongue in your mouth and you take it in stride.

“You’re very good at this,” he says. “If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t think this was your first time.”

“Is that a compliment?” you ask, doubting Joel is capable of such things.

He ignores your question, and sighs. You know it’s not directed at you because you’re fairly sure he’s not listening.

“I know I said I was gonna do some things with you, but I don’t wanna take things too fast, okay?”

“Are you saying you’re just going to kiss me?”

“I think that’d be the right thing to do.”

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

You wish you could sound sexy, or whatever, but you probably come off like a bratty child.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s not fair. You said you’d make me feel good. I thought you were gonna return the favor.”

“I was.”

“Then, why are you backing out?”

You’re shocked that he’s the pussy — pun-intended — in this scenario.

“I thought it might be too much for you.”

You grab his hand and slip it under the flimsy fabric of your shorts.

His eyes go wide.

Fucking hell, you’re wet, is the only thought on Joel’s mind. It makes sense. He’d be offended, maybe even worried if you were dry as a desert down there, but he’s barely touched you. Either you really enjoyed kissing him or you actually liked sucking him off too.

He gently presses the pads of his fingers against the wet spot on your panties.

“You’re right, baby. It’s only fair if I help you out.”

He’s able to get your shorts and your panties down in one swift pull. You look impressed by the action. Just you wait, he thinks. He’s not an expert by any means, but it’s not too hard to learn if you pay attention — and sex is one of the only times Joel does listen — it’s also not a skill you lose over time. It’s muscle memory, or maybe it’s innate.

His thumb rubs your clit lazily as he watches your face scrunch up in pleasure, your eyes fill with need. When the first finger slips inside you, he hears a breathy sigh come from above — it sounds like relief though he knows you haven’t come yet.

He’s never had a woman have such a strong reaction to his lips on her clit. It almost startles him at first. You’re frantic from the moment his lips meet your skin, crying out for him like you’re scared he’ll stop.

“Hey,” he says, “I’m right here. Don’t have to get so worked up. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He can’t say another word because his lips are occupied, so he relies on his hands, his soothing touch, to tell you that everything is alright. He gets the urge to tell you how good you are for him, how good you taste, how pretty you are like this, but he knows it’d be cruel to let up now. He’s callous often, sometimes harsh, but rarely cruel.

His instinct tells him to drag this out, to make your thighs shake, to have tears running down your cheeks, to tease you. To be the asshole that he tends to be when you’re around (and when you’re not). This is a version of Joel you might come to like.

He’s lived long enough to be well-practiced in this field of life. Doesn’t matter if he’s particularly romantic or even sociable, it’s just happened enough times over the course of fifty plus years for him to know the ins and outs. He can get you there quickly and lead you through it slowly.

He’s so used to you saying his name in a tone he considers pestering that he’s begun to hate the word itself. But when it’s drawn out and desperate like this, it sounds wonderful.

You’re at his mercy, he thinks. Which means he’s in control. And, as much as he’d hate to admit it, control does not mean he can kill you, control means he can care for you.

When you come down from your high, Joel is looking up at you from between your thighs with messy hair and kiss-dark lips. His smile looks like one of pride. Your cheeks heat up, only half-remembering what just happened. You could describe the event simply in a cause and effect relationship — he went down on you, so you came. You know what an orgasm feels like, but that was something beyond anything you’d ever experienced before. You fear an addiction may be coming on.

Your voice comes out shaky, which only makes your first words after a long silence sound stupider. “Thank you.”

He looks confused, and it takes him a moment to respond. “My pleasure,” he says, and you swear it might be when you see a semi through his sweatpants.

You’d offer more ‘help’ but you truly don’t think you can manage it. You can feel your body pulling you towards sleep. Your eyes have barely opened and they want to close again.

Joel notices because how could he not, you’re completely naked in every sense of the word.

“Get some rest,” he says before standing up.

He’s leaving.

“Where are you going?” you ask, instinctively.

“Downstairs.”

You do not want to say it. The fear of rejection is too strong, but so is the sudden urge to cry. Holding back tears is a strength of yours, though, so Joel never sees them. Somehow, after doing one of the most adult things, you feel like a baby in the wake of it. You are supposed to be taking care of him, and you are failing.

“What?” is his response to your refusal to meet his eyes.

“I just assumed you were going to stay. That’s all.”

“I can. If that’s what you need me to do.”

You don’t say anything. He climbs into bed anyway after picking up your underwear and handing it to you.

He doesn’t hold you but he doesn’t leave either. What he does do is kiss you on the forehead when he thinks you’re already asleep. It’s a compromise between your fear and your desire.

It isn’t as weird as one might think it would be — acting as if you’ve never done anything remotely sexual with one another. It’s easier because you don’t have to go back to being friends. You never really were. It was always awkward. What’s new? Only your knowledge that at least some of your feelings are mutual. Only the fact that you think about having sex with him every time he’s in front of you. It’s really just out of curiosity sometimes. What would he be like in bed? Does he want it too? How would you even broach the subject?

Sometimes, it’s not just curiosity. Those days are harder to navigate. You have to pretend like every little touch — most of them accidental — fuels the fire. It’s not the sensation itself. It’s just the acute awareness of his body, how close it is to yours, how easily you could reach out and touch him, that enters your mind.

“You’re staring.” Joel says from the other side of the couch.

“Sorry. I zoned out.”

“Got something’ on your mind?”

“Not really.”

“C’mon, what is it?”

“Why do you suddenly care about my thoughts?” About me.

“You think I didn’t care about you before? You’ve been in my house everyday for months now.”

“So?”

“And, I haven’t tried to kick you out yet.”

“You’re not allowed to kick me out. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Okay. How ‘bout this: I’m down here sitting with you because I know you don’t like to be alone.”

“So you pity me?”

“No, if I pitied you, I’d have told Tommy to give you a new job.”

“Okay, so, you expect me to believe you care but you refuse to talk to me half the time.”

“I’m not much of a talker. But, now that I’m trying to talk to you, you’re shutting me out.”

“I’m not— It’s just not a big deal. I don’t even remember what I was thinking about anyway.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I said, that’s bullshit.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll talk.”

You take a deep breath before speaking, one long enough that he gestures for you to go on.

“I was just thinking about what it would be like if we had sex.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, since we, you know, we did that stuff… it’s not like it’s a totally crazy thought.”

“‘That stuff’? Be more specific, honey.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I do, but you can’t be thinking about having sex with me when you can’t even use big girl words when you’re talking about it.”

“It doesn’t even matter.” Your face is burning. It so, totally, does matter. “I was just curious.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mm-hmm. Go on thinking, I’ll get back to reading.”

“Wait, what? You just made me tell you that to make me embarrassed? You’re not even gonna—”

“What? Gonna fuck you?”

The word slips out of his mouth so easily.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Truth is: he’s been thinking about you every day since. He only caught you staring because he was doing the same. He tries to restrain himself because it feels like the right thing to do.

But he still, he acquiesces and takes you upstairs to his bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed and undresses you slowly like you’re a gift and he doesn’t want to tear the paper. He places your clothes atop the dresser, but leaves his strewn across the floor.

Wonder fills your eyes as he reveals his naked body. Hesitation and awe wrapped up in one.

“Wow,” you say, breaking the silence, “it’s, um, you know— do you think it’ll fit?”

It’s not the first time he’s heard that. It no longer brings him that bashful pride that it did when he was younger. It’s just a fact. A nuisance sometimes.

“Not if we don’t get you ready first.”

“Do you need to get ready first too?”

He looks down at his cock, rock-hard and eager.

“No, baby, just looking at you is enough to get me ready.”

A thought crosses his mind — one he thought he’d left in his teenage years — what if he comes too quickly?

He lies back on the bed next to you and reaches for you, waits for you to let him maneuver you.

“Come here,” he says.

You sit up and face him, slowly inch towards his arms that beckon you.

You’re fairly sure you know what he wants you to do. Sit on his face. But god, something about it seems awkward in the amount of control you simultaneously give up and are given in turn.

“You trust me, right?” he asks.

“Of course.”

An answer you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d give back when you first met.

“Then, come sit on my face.”

You swing your leg over him and steady yourself above his face.

He grips your thighs to guide you. You grip the headboard to save yourself from passing out the moment Joel’s mouth meets your skin.

Joel wouldn’t be the man you’d have thought would have such a talented tongue based on how little he uses it. You can’t blame him for not talking right now. Your moans echo off his bedroom walls and permeate the balmy summer air. The windows are closed and the curtains shield your naked bodies from the neighbors but even if you’d left them open, you wouldn’t have the sense to care.

You’re an incoherent mess of moans and half-words, trembling thighs and sweat. Your orgasm comes on strong, and if your eyes weren’t screwed shut, maybe you’d see the gates of heaven.

It’s been a while since he’s done this. Tess never liked it like this and the last woman before her was one from another lifetime, pre-outbreak, an inconceivable world despite having once called it home.

He’s not really thinking about that, though, in this moment, all Joel can think of is you. Your skin, your sweat, your heat, and the pretty noises you make. At one point, he swears he hears his name though your thighs are covering his ears. And he doesn’t mind it one bit.

“I’m gonna pass out,” he hears from above him.

“No, you’re not. I’ve got you,” he tries to say, though surely his words are muffled.

“Don’t let me go.”

He doesn’t. He carefully helps you lie back on the bed. When he meets your gaze, he swears he’s never seen adoration like that in anyone’s eyes before. At least, not in a long time.

It terrifies him, but in spite of his hesitation, he holds you close.

A blanket of peaceful silence settles over your bare bodies.

You speak quietly, trying not to awaken Joel’s senses. The ones that pull him away from you. The moment feels like glass in your hands.

“Are we going to have sex?”

“Hm?”

“We were going to, right? You were getting me ready for it.”

“I thought I wore you out.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’d tell you if you were.”

He hesitates.

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

Those are the words that awaken his arousal. In an instant, you find his body looming above yours. He kisses you until your lips are red and puffy. He doesn’t break your gaze as he positions his cock at your entrance. Your green light is your needy hips begging him to fuck you.

He starts slow, even the head is a stretch. You scrunch up your face and hold back the urge to squirm.

“It’s gonna be a little uncomfortable at first, baby, and that’s why we’re gonna take it slow.”

Slow is an understatement. It takes ages for him to give you another inch — or maybe you’re just antsy. This one makes you whimper, makes you clamp down around him.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be fine.”

Joel’s voice is tender and sweet, and it gives you enough hope to ask for something you think he’d usually deny you.

“Can you hold my hand?”

He interlocks his fingers with yours. It feels oddly natural. He doubts he’s heard someone ask to hold his hand since— not now, he’ll go soft if he thinks about her. He’ll close in on himself and you need him — in more ways than one.

He continues slowly as he promised he would until he hears your moans of pleasure and your pleas for more, more, more. More is a little bit faster, a little bit harder, as deep as you can take it, and most importantly, his thumb tracing circles on your clit.

You squeeze his hand with yours as your inner walls clamp down around him.

“Just let it happen. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

When you come, he does too — the most blissful mistake he’s ever made.

Curses fly out of his mouth through his orgasm, stopping briefly as he catches his breath, and resuming when he pulls out and watches as his come drips out of you.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you insist. “I liked it.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Because I fucking loved it. “But, it’s dangerous. We’ve gotta be more careful.”

In the future — it’s implied. Another time is nothing when the lines have all been crossed and when the other side brings him a warmth the hot summer never could.

You have more power over him than the sun.

It becomes a routine — briefly — and you are more careful. You discreetly buy condoms, but when your next period doesn’t come, you fear it might be too late.

You don’t tell Joel, not at first. Sometimes, they’re irregular, and you don’t want to give the man a heart attack. But then a week passes, another week passes, and eventually you have to — especially when you’re beginning to feel a bit nauseous and have no other explanation for it. It’s better to say something before he asks.

“Joel,” you say, “I haven’t gotten my period yet.”

A look of horror crosses his face before he asks, “How late is it?”

You take a breath before admitting, “A few weeks.”

“How many?”

“Almost three.”

“Fuck.” He sighs in preemptive defeat. “Have you taken a test?”

“No, I thought it would come so I didn’t want to overreact.”

“We’re going to go get one.”

He stands up immediately and turns towards the door.

“Wait,” you say, stopping him in his tracks.

“I should probably get it. It’ll look less suspicious.”

No, it won’t. Those who suspect something is up with you, will have their suspicions, and those who don’t, won’t think to pay attention.

They recommend taking multiple because false negatives are common.

The first one is a clear positive, so clear you think it might be a false positive, so you wait to freak out until you see two lines come up on the second test.

Joel is silent, even when you hand him the test.

But, so are you, because what more is there to say? The tests say it all.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to,” he says, and you’re surprised until he clarifies.

“I doubt they’ll make you pay for the pill or the procedure — however they do it, but I’ll take care of you while you’re recovering. I’ll be there through it all. Promise.”

The pill or the procedure. The abortion that he expects you to have. Truth be told, you hadn’t really thought about what you’d do until now. It’s probably the right decision. Do you really want to bring a baby into this world? Can you even take care of one?

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll make an appointment.”

You save your tears for Maria. She approaches you in the clinic. You’d be delighted to see her at any other moment.

“Making an appointment?” she asks.

“Yeah, just a checkup,” you lie.

The woman at the counter clarifies with you. “Just a checkup? Is that what you’d prefer?”

You turn back and forth between her and Maria.

“Um, no,” you say, “keep it as is.”

Maria raises an eyebrow and there is nowhere left to hide. You might be able to outrun her, but she knows where you live and isn’t afraid to confront you at your doorstep.

She saves you some of your dignity when she whispers, “How about a chat at my place? I have some tea that helps with nausea.”

The tea is persuasive but you’d have to go anyway. You don’t speak on the walk to Maria’s. She brews the tea and you sit across from each other in the kitchen before she finally speaks.

“What’s the appointment for?” she asks. “And I’m not here to judge you, I just want the truth.”

You’re not my mom, you could say, but she’s the closest thing you’ve had to one since your own passed.

“An abortion,” you say quietly, looking down at the table, at your hands around the mug.

“Okay,” she says, gently. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You try to reply but all the comes out is a sob.

Eventually, she pries the truth out of you. You explain what happened when you told Joel the news.

“So, he made the decision, and then told you he’d be there for you if he did what you wanted?”

“I guess. But, I think it might be the right choice. I mean, it'd be hard to raise a child in this world…” You cut yourself off when you look at her bump. She’s gonna be a mom, a good mom. And, stupidly, you’re jealous.

Even though it’s not there yet, you swear you can see a high chair in your periphery. You could be holding a warm bottle instead of a hot mug of tea. Maria could be feeding her child his first bite of baby food next to you.

“Let me ask you something, and I want you to really think about it, and be honest with me.”

You nod and wait for her question.

“If Joel had said he’d support you no matter what, even if you wanted to keep the child, if he said he’d step up as a father, would you have made the appointment?”

“I don’t know.” Oh, but you do. Maria waits for you to come to a conclusion, for you to spit it out.

“I like the idea of having a kid. I love kids, and I sometimes think about what it would be like being a mom, but I know that I can’t be one. Not right now.”

If there is one thing Joel can’t be, it’s a father. Not again. He’s too old, too grouchy, too cynical. He’s not the man he used to be. He was never good at it anyway. He couldn’t save his own kid. He’s already a failed father — once, if not, twice.

You’d be a great mother, and that’s the greatest tragedy. He’s failed you already. He’s not good at the kinder things of life. He shouldn’t have indulged in you, in the love you gave him when he cannot give it back. There are a lot of things Joel can’t quite get right — being a lover, a father, a good man.

Every night since the outbreak began, he’s watched Sarah bleed out in his arms. Sometimes he sees Tess, Sam and Henry, Bill, even Tommy which feels like an augury. Ellie is there almost every night, losing consciousness. Only sometimes is she in that hospital bed, often, she’s lying in the show, with blue lips and almost no pulse. Now, you’ve begun to enter his subconscious. You’re always too far out of reach, screaming his name until he’s shot dead, and the last thing he hears is you shriek as you watch him die in front of you.

Another person is another tragedy once they have the misfortune of coming into his life. There cannot be another person, especially not a child.

You should be back by now, he thinks as he splashes water on his face for the umpteenth time, hoping it’ll wash away all the mistakes he’s made.

He can tell it’s Maria by the way her knuckles rap on his front door. He can tell she’s pissed too.

When he opens the door, he sees you in standing behind her, like you’re afraid of him.

“Unless you want to have this discussion on your doorstep, I suggest you let me — us — inside.”

He does, reluctantly.

“Joel Miller, when do you plan on becoming a man?”

“What?”

“You just told her to make an appointment, didn’t even give her a chance to think about it? You managed to run away from your problems while you’re on house arrest. Impressive.”

“I thought that was what we both wanted,” he says, looking past her, to you.

“I guess, maybe,” you shrug.

The one thing he’s grateful for is Maria’s suggestion that you talk privately.

You sit further from him than usual, you refuse to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask what you wanted. I thought I was making the right choice.”

“It’s okay. I don’t even know what I want.”

But the tears suggest otherwise.

“Do you want to keep the baby?”

“Maybe, but I can’t. It’s not a good idea.”

“That’s what I think, but Maria’s right, it’s your choice.”

“But I don’t know how to make that choice.”

“You’ve got a good heart. Follow it.”

You spend a lot of time thinking, remembering, and trying to convince yourself that there is no part of you that wants to be a mother. But, in your bedside drawer, there is a handful of photos — all from before the outbreak. You see your mom as a child on a swing set, and as a teen blowing out candles on her birthday. Her mom is in that one too, sitting next to her, smiling. You wish more than anything to have pictures of you and your mom.

You think about the little girl who pretended a ratty old stuffed bear was her baby. You can hear your mom telling you that you’re doing a good job, how you’ll be good at this one day. Your bedtime stories were never about fairy princesses, but about your family, the ones you didn’t get to meet.

“I wish I could have that,” you’d say.

“One day, you might be able to — the world is scary right now, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna be like this forever,” she’d insist.

In retrospect, you wonder if she really believed that, if she really believed that teddy bear would one day be a baby that you’d be the one carrying, and she’d be the proud grandmother.

“I told her I wanted to be a mom like her,” you explain to Joel, and he understands.

You know about Ellie, but not about Sarah. Joel never brings either of them up to you. Until now. It’s a fair trade, he tells himself. Photos for photos, info for info. But it’s more than that.

“Hold on for one minute, I’m gonna go get something, and I’ll be right back.”

It’ll only take him a second to grab the pictures, but he’ll need a moment to compose himself.

“This is Sarah,” he says, pointing to the little girl in the photo. “My daughter.”

You’re silent for a moment, gazing at the photo, at a younger Joel you’ve never met.

You’re the first person not to tell him that you’re sorry for his loss, and he is relieved not to hear the empty sympathies once more.

“What was she like?” you ask.

It’s hard to explain, and for that reason, he talks for at least a half hour about Sarah. All her likes and dislikes, all his favorite moments from the day she was born until the day she died. He tells the story of that too.

When you try to tell him that he sounds like he was a good dad, he has to explain why he wasn’t.

“I couldn’t save her,” he says.

“I couldn’t save her either,” you say, pointing to your mother in one of the photos.

“You were just a child,” he says. “It’s not your fault.”

“And, you were just a man,” you say. “It’s not your fault.”

“A grown man.”

“Doing the best that you could.”

And you’re right. He did try his best. He stops arguing not because he’ll ever concede but because the weight of the present falls upon him all at once as he meets your eyes and remembers why you’re here.

He can’t have Sarah back, he can’t have Ellie back, but you’re right in front of him — and he loves you. It’s too late to turn back and kick you out on your first day, it’s too late to never speak to you, it’s too late to not love you.

It’s not too late to fail you like he’s failed everyone else. It’s not too late to do the opposite either.

You tell him your decision, and wait for his disagreement, for him to dissuade you. But, he doesn’t.

“Okay,” he says.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try my best.”

You cancel the appointment and make the final decision, but it doesn’t feel real until Joel finishes building the crib in the spare bedroom. The most unexpected part is how excited you feel even when you’re nauseous, even when your feet are bloated, even when your back is killing you.

You’re also terrified, particularly when you hear Maria’s account of her labor and delivery. For someone describing how painful it was, she seems oddly unfazed, happy even. She’s too focused on her baby boy, and you get it — he is pretty cute.

When the day comes, you find that you’ve underestimated the pain entirely. The wounds you’ve gotten in combat are nothing compared to this. Every hour that goes by feels like a full day for you. Every time the doctor checks your dilation it’s still not yet time.

Until it is. And everything becomes a million times more chaotic. You swear the only thing keeping you sane is Joel’s hand in yours. (You have to apologize later for squeezing it so tightly.)

Finally, the telltale cry comes, and it feels like you’ve run a marathon by how exhausted you are and by how proud you are of yourself for doing it. This will go down as the greatest feat of your life and you are more than satisfied with that fact.

The doctor announces that it’s a boy and though he said he’d be fine with either gender, Joel’s smile is wider than you’ve ever seen it. You’re smiling almost as big. It hurts your cheek muscles but you can’t stop, especially when they hand you your baby boy. Though he doesn’t know how to speak, his hand wrapped around your finger tells you that it’s going to be okay.

There is so much pain in this world, but not in this room.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction

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fics-lovebot · 2 months ago

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jujutsu kaisen fic recs pt. 3

main masterlist - jjk fic recs pt. 1 - jjk fic recs pt. 2

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

yuji finds out gojo has a family - ( @kingkonoha ) fluff, lowkey angst, hubby!gojo, dad!gojo, so,,, this made me cry, i love yuji sm he deserves the world :( this is part two and it also made me crY MY MF EYES OUT :))))))))

can´t stop drinking - ( @kingkonoha ) ANGST, death, blood, dad!gojo, husband!gojo, mentions of wanting to die, a curse kills you and your son allegedly but in reality the elders had lied to him all these years, part 2 made me fucking crying

lambent - ( @xo2dee ) kinda fluffy, true form!sukuna, pregnant!reader, heian era customs, hubby!sukuna, a lil cannibalism, THIS NEEDs A KDRAMA

paparazzi´s pov - ( @rayveneyed ) fluff, award winning actor!sukuna, singer!oc, he likes messing around with supermodels but then the both of them meet at a fashion show, next thing you know oc got an anklet with his initials in garnet AÑDLJSÑFDLJ i really like this, would love to see a longer version

mangoes - ( @sttoru ) fluff, pregnant!reader, hubby!sukuna, tru form!sukuna, SOOO CUTEE, this acc had me giggling and kicking my feet

nanami drabbles - ( @sugurizz ) pwp, pls yall readdd part 2 and part 3, its crazyy

fifteen minutes - ( @roseglazedlens ) nanami smut. “Say that again. Louder. Can’t hear shit with the sound of my dick slapping into your cunt.” that´s all I have to say, your honor

protective - (@kingkonoha ) headcanon, hubby!kento, my man my man my man my man i love thissss

the horniest - ( @arminsumi ) gojo smut, ITS SO GOOOOOOOOOODDDDDD, he´s horny af, pussy drunk, obsessed, borderline crazy for that wap

phone calls - ( @kingkonoha ) slice of life, hubby!gojo, dilf!gojo, his wife and his daughter are his only priority, this is so sdkfjskdjfh :´( i love it

jock bf!yuuji - ( @tteokdoroki ) smut, fluff, all-star jock!yuuji, weird gf!reader, college au. one thing about me, i LOVE jock!yuuji. READ THIS AS WELL PLEASSEE

In denial - ( @rosesaints ) smut, sub!yuuta, "he doesn’t believe that it’s real until you’re actually sinking down onto his cock" period.

protective hubby - ( @slttygeto ) teacher!suguru, pregnant wife oc, it´s cutee

focus - ( @arminsumi ) suggestive, flirty!geto, tutor!geto, “you’re doing so good for me… keep going.” I HATE ITTTTT, i would fold like a mf lawn chair bitch OOF

wap - ( @tonycries ) smut, going in raw for the first time. i caNNOT EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE HOW GOOD THIS IS JUST PLEASEEE GO READ IT

warm heart pastry - ( @cckaisen ) text, fluff, crack, first of all,,, i love yuji, second of all satoru REALLY needs help, and third of all WHY IS INUMAKI ALWAYS ON SOME SHIT??? lmaooooo

love struck - ( @xxsabitoxx ) fluffy, ex-fuckboy!satoru, he´s experiencing love for the first time :((((( IT´S SO CUTEEEEEEEEEE

love dumb - ( @arminsumi ) gojo fluff, blurb, you make him lose his composure, can´t even focus bc you´re over there existing, someone should make a longer version of this! so good

will always be yours - ( @nezuscribe ) smut, fluff, so basically toji only does rough sex, doggy style being his fav, but when it comes to you he prefers the loving-face to face-intense eye contanct type of sex (more like love making) bc being with you makes him feel ten different emotions at once :) DÑFLJSLDFJ

ridin dirty?! - ( @screampied ) smut, mechanic!toji, the beggining had me giggling and blushing sdlfhlsjh, he´s too fucking cocky lmao, writing his number on her asscheeks and stuff

losing his mind - ( @daisynik7 ) smut, dom!reader, hubby!kento, sub!kento, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, WHEEEEEEEEW, 10000/10, now this is new

his protégé - ( @augustinewrites ) fluff, slice of life, fiancé!kento, dinner time with yuuji, it´s so wholesome :´)

insecure bully!gojo - ( @saetoru ) angst, lil fluff, he´s a bully and he´s in love, but its not enough. part 2

best of the best - ( @saetoru ) smut, fwb! satoru, big sHIT talker omg, he lit asks you to be his gf wHILE he´s making you cum,,,,,best bf ever tho

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ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral · 1 year ago

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Ok, I don't really post here, but there's a Merlin AU idea that's been rattling around in my skull like it's a pinball machine and I need to get it out, so here we go:

Imagine an AU where Balinor doesn't die and banishes Kilgarrah before sneaking away so Uther doesn't catch him and can't put his newfound son in danger. Of course, both he and Merlin are heartbroken about having to be separated again after just finding each other, but they work out a way to keep in touch and occasionally meet in secret.

And this is all well and good, and everything in the show just kinda proceeds as normal up until about season 4, where we have the knights of the round table well-established in Camelot.

It'd make sense that after a few years of travelling around with Kilgarrah, Balinor would be pretty well-known and well-feared throughout all the five kingdoms as "that dragonlord who escaped the purge and now travels around on the back of a giant dragon", and people all over Albion are kinda terrified of the guy.

Rumors say that he never smiles, that he can kill a man in a split second without even utterring a spell, and can decimate kingdoms with the dragon under his total command. That makes for a formidable figure!

And then one day, Balinor is trying to sneak into Camelot to visit his son (he heard Merlin got hit by a dorocha and wants to make sure he's ok!), and the knights see him and freak out because holy shit that's one of the deadliest guys in Albion!

They're in a tense standoff, with Balinor threatening to call down the dragon on them if they don't let him through. The knights are all ready to give their lives to at least buy the people in the castle time to evacuate, when suddenly Merlin and Arthur make it to the standoff. Arthur immediately starts strategizing with his knights on how they're going to negociate with the sorcerer in an attempt to make sure that they aren't all slaughtered.

Meanwhile, Merlin just laughs and pushes through the rows of knights blocking Balinor's path to the castle. The knights, being very fond of Merlin and not wanting to see their kind little friend be brutally murdered by one of the most terrifying men in exsistence, are trying to grab Merlin and pull him back to safety or shouting at him to get back, but Merlin manages to avoid them as he walks up to Balinor.

For a horrifying moment, the knights and Arthur think that Merlin is about to sacrifice himself for them, but Merlin breaks into a huge grin, yells "Dad!", and runs right into Balinor's arms.

(Merlin and Balinor reason that now that Arthur's king, they might as well start easing him into some of Merlin's less shocking secrets)

And even more shockingly to the knights, Balinor hugs him back, asking Merlin all about how he's been doing, how are his studies under Gaius, etc etc.

And all of the knights just bluescreen. Because the math isn't mathing on this one. Hunith + Balinor = MERLIN?! Does not compute.

They're all pondering how could someone as joyful, friendly, and kind as Merlin be the spawn of a terrifying man like Balinor?? They just cannot comprehend it. The manservant who they all know and love came from this sorcerer who's name is synonymous with the threat of death and destruction??

They're all jolted back to reality however when Balinor asks Merlin if he wants to come back to Balinor's newly-renovated stronghold in the mountains (that's only accessable by riding a dragon) to learn more about one day becoming a dragonlord. And suddenly, the knight understand why Balinor's here. He wants to kidnap Merlin from them and twist him into a terrifying sorcerer to carry on Balinor's legacy!

It all basically dissolves into a long game of high-stakes tug-of-war between Balinor and the knights + Arthur, and Merlin's just enjoying spending time with his father and his friends.

Balinor will just casually crash one of their quests while riding Kilgarrah and "kidnap" Merlin while the knights fight to keep Merlin with them.

Balinor eventually gives Merlin Aithusa so he can get practice raising dragons, and the knights see it as some evil scheme to make Merlin betray Camelot and attack it from within, but damn it Merlin's already adopted the damn thing so now they're stuck with a baby dragon.

IDK if I'd ever write a fic about it since I'm pretty busy writing another fic rn, but I thought that it was a funny idea to throw out there!

PS: if anyone wants to read my current project, where I'm giving Sir Leon more anxiety with each chapter after a kinda-botched magic reveal on Merlin's part (and Merlin may or may not be an eldritch god), feel free to check it out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54027337/chapters/136771564

Thank you all for sticking with my incoherent rambling! :D I hope you have a great day/night!

Also, please let me know if you guys wants to hear more of the ideas that pinball around in my head!

#bbc merlin #merlin #balinor #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merlin au #protective arthur #protective knights #merlin prompts

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dolche-tejada · 9 months ago

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You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

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thescrapwitch · 2 months ago

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“We could say that we lost them,” suggested Laegnis.

“Lord Maedhros will not believe that,” argued Taethor. “Two tiny half-elves could not escape from Fëanorian soldiers, even if they do have Maia blood. He will know it is a lie immediately.”

“Then we’ll say we did it on purpose. That we left them in a foul part of the woods to die.”

“And if he goes to look for them?”

“We’ll give him the wrong direction. That should buy them some time to escape.” Laegnis met Taethor’s eyes, more afraid now than he’d been during the battle. “What else can we do?”

The question haunted them as they walked back to camp. What would they say to their lord when they returned? Not the truth: that they’d found Dior’s sons, silver-haired and dark-eyed, guarded by an elf-maiden. She’d looked at them like they were orcs, all but fell to her knees and begged them for mercy.

“Please,” she had said. “Do not harm us. Let us run away. I know these woods well, we will not die from the cold or beasts. Please, if there is any goodness left in you at all, let the three of us escape this bloodshed.”

“Nellas,” one of the little twins had whimpered, clutching her skirt.

“Please,” the elf-maiden had said again, her body a shield in front of the children. “Please, none of us have what you seek. They are only children. I have kin over the mountains. Let me take them there, let them grow up far away where your lord will never hear of them and not fear vengeance. Please.”

Laegnis and Taethor let them go. Of course they let her and the children go. What else could they do?

“Do you really think Lord Maedhros would kill them if we told him the truth?” asked Taethor.

“I think,” Laegnis said carefully, “that Lord Maedhros has been very different ever since King Fingon died. All of the Sons of Fëanor have. Do you?”

Taethor sighed. Blood stained his hands, just as it had centuries ago in a different land, and this time there was no sea to wash them clean in. “I do not think any of us are like we once were.”

When they finally reached the camp, they were sent immediately to the general’s tent. “You two are Celegorm’s servants,” said Lord Maedhros, a tower of steel, his eyes burning with a fire so terrible it hurt to stare at. Gore was still splattered across his armour. “He sent you after Dior’s sons, Eluréd and Elurín. Where are they?”

Laegnis and Taethor thought of the tiny twins clutching the elf-maiden's skirt. Of deep, dark woods with many places to hide if one knew the right paths. Of how relentless and ruthless the Sons of Fëanor were. Taethor reached out and squeezed Laegnis’ hand. Both of them still had blood beneath their fingernails.

There would be consequences for lying. Grave ones. But what else could they do?

“My lord,” said Laegnis, voice steady, “we left them in the woods to die.”

#this suddenly came into my head and I had to get it down #a little twist on the cruel servants of celegorm #my writing #maedhros #second kinslaying #silmarillion

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confuzing · 4 months ago

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I have this idea for an SVSSS fic where SQQ winds up regularly sharing dreams with both his LBH and OGLBH. I'd need to do a reread for it but I'm gonna post the broad strokes because I can't stop rotating it in my mind.

It's Abyss time but SQQ puts his foot down. No he's not pushing his Binghe into the Abyss, shut up System. Oh you're going to kill him? Then do it.

Then he throws his sword away and pulls LBH away from the Abyss.

SQQ: Ok honey I'm maybe about to drop dead but it's not your fault ok?

LBH: WHAT???

And then the System does indeed try to rip SQQ's soul out- except LBH, right there and terrified, mentally grabs hold of his Shizun's soul and won't let go.

MQF rolls up to a fucking nightmare, SQQ is in the process of having his soul ripped out by some kind of mystery curse? LBH is burning through his own supply of qi to stop it but that's a napkin on a stab wound- Liu Qingge put your sword down right now! Yes MQF can see LBH's part demon, now help him keep SQQ alive or fuck off - you too Sect Leader!

Meanwhile the System is glitching out, and decides to initiate a Punishment Protocol because this mess is all SQQ's fault and he won't die like a good user.

So it dumps him in the dreams of OGLBH, who's just been pushed in the Abyss by his own Shizun.

Faced with a very upset teen Binghe, SQQ does the only thing that he can. He hugs that boy and tells him none of this is his fault and he didn't do anything wrong.

It probably only works because OGLBH is very upset and desperate for comfort- and when OGLBH said "SQQ??" incredulously SQQ says "No, I'm sorry I know I look like him" and this man doesn't act like the SQQ he knows at all, and he gives really good hugs.

SQQ is stuck in OGLBH's dreams when he's not just... nowhere and after a few more short hug sessions (OGLBH can't usually sleep for long) OGLBH finally asks who exactly SQQ is then?

Right around this time MQF figures out how to stabilize SQQ without requiring LBH to be awake and actively channeling qi the whole time. So LBH passes the f out and goes to look for his Shizun, turning up right when SQQ is dreaming with OGLBH.

After a little Binghe stand off SQQ sits them both down and decides to just, tell them everything -he can here, the System can't stop him and it's already killing him what else can it do?

So he tells them about parallel universes, and his own original world, about Proud Immortal Demon Way, and his decision, upon waking up in his favorite book in the villian's body, to meddle every way he could. He tells them about the System and explains that it probably sent him here thinking OGLBH would hurt him, thinking he was OGSQQ. Everything.

Eventually MQF and a bunch of other cultivators untangle SQQ from the System, letting his soul come back to his body but leaving that door open between his mind and OGLBH's.

From there I just have ideas I'd want to explore, some of my favorites:

-OGLBH finding out about Without a Cure and that SQQ isn't telling his Binghe about the easy fix and having to decide if he's going to spill the beans or not.

-Every time I think about what to do with SQH I wind up thinking about what would probably be a whole side fic of court wranglings, political assassinations and interspecies dating drama after SQH runs away to hide with MBJ when SQQ wakes up and goes "you're cursed too right?"

-Both Binghes and their Meng Mos coming along on SQQ's scenic tour of SJ's traumatic backstory (I just need SQQ to hug that little tea-soaked Binghe only for him to split into the two older Binghes because when they entered this memory both of them inhabited the baby Binghe's avatar)

- The whole sect deciding that actually LBH is their half demon son and none of the other sects better even look at him funny. (The biggest reason for this might be SQQ waking up from being cursed and immediately threatening to kill everyone in the room and then himself if anything happens to LBH even though he can't even sit up. Also like, the kid's been crying nonstop for days now, not exactly scary demon behavior. Kid needs a hug and some juice)

-A very fraught conversation when OGLBH gets out of the Abyss where he tells SQQ he's going back to the mountain and SQQ refuses to ask him not to kill everyone because he knows exactly what OGLBH suffered at the hands of those alternate versions of the people SQQ loves.

-Every now and the the Binghes just meet up to hiss at each other like angry cats

#svsss #svsss au #luo bingmei #luo bingge #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #thank you for reading my rambling

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novaursa · 8 months ago

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Broken by War (Continuation)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Aemond kneels before your mother, for you.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The main list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

- A/N: Is this another unexpected post? Yes. Yes it is.

The sky outside rumbles as a dark shadow passes over Dragonstone. You watch from a window, heart heavy as Vhagar descends, wings outstretched like a stormcloud. The sea itself seems to bow beneath the ancient dragon's power, the waves thrashing against the rocks as if trying to claw their way to safety. But it isn’t the dragon that makes your chest tighten with unease—it’s him.

Aemond Targaryen, your uncle.

The heavy doors to the Great Hall are thrown open, and you see him dragged inside by two guards, his eye glaring defiantly despite the bruises on his face and the blood staining his tunic. His silver hair, once so perfect, is now disheveled, tangled with dirt and salt from the sea air. You can’t help but feel the pull in your chest, your worry for him rising above the rage boiling in the room.

Your mother, Rhaenyra, stands tall at the head of the hall, surrounded by your brothers. Her face is like stone, regal, unyielding, but you can see the storm brewing behind her eyes. Daemon lurks behind her, hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, ready to strike if she gives the word.

Aemond is thrown to his knees before her, and you step forward instinctively. Your gaze locks onto his, and for a brief moment, the tension of the room melts away. In his eye, you see something you had not expected—remorse, pleading, and something deeper, something that reaches back into your shared childhood. His lips part, and though his voice is raw, he speaks with conviction.

“Your Grace,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion as he keeps his head bowed, "I do not come to you as a prince of the greens, nor as the son of my mother... but as a man who has loved your daughter from the days we were children."

Rhaenyra's eyes narrow. “And yet you killed my son,” she hisses, venom lacing every word. Her hand clenches into a fist, her nails biting into her palm. The room tenses, the weight of Lucerys’ death still fresh in every heart.

You hold your breath. Your brothers shift uncomfortably, their rage palpable, but they do not move. Daemon’s grip on his sword tightens, his expression dark.

Aemond looks up, his face a mixture of desperation and grief. "I beg you to understand. What happened with Lucerys… it was not meant to be. It was an accident, Your Grace. A tragedy I cannot undo, no matter how deeply I wish I could. But I cannot kill her." His eye moves to you, and you feel the raw truth of his words pierce your heart. “I was ordered to, by my mother and grandsire. They sent me here to strike her down. But I cannot. I would rather die at your hands than harm her.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softens ever so slightly, but her voice remains firm. “You think your love for her erases the blood on your hands? You think I should spare you, after what you’ve done to my family?”

Aemond kneels lower, pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor. His voice shakes, but his determination does not waver. "I ask not for your forgiveness, Your Grace, for I do not deserve it. But I swear to you—on my honor, on my blood—I will serve her. I will protect her, with my life if need be. I cannot kill her because... she is my heart. She has always been.”

Your breath hitches, a warmth spreading through your chest. Memories flood back—of a time when you and Aemond were children, playing together in the Red Keep. His laughter, the softness in his violet eyes when he looked at you, even then. You had both been too young to understand what it meant, but now, here, the weight of it is undeniable.

Rhaenyra steps forward, her eyes flicking to you. “Is this what you want?” she asks, her tone cautious, but there’s a hint of something more—fear, perhaps, that you might choose the son of her enemy.

You swallow, your gaze never leaving Aemond. He looks up at you, his face filled with an unspoken plea, a fragile hope that maybe you might still see the boy you once knew. And you do. Despite everything, you see him. The man who loved you, the boy who never stopped.

“I...” You falter, the words caught in your throat. The air feels too thick, the weight of everyone's gaze too heavy. But when you finally speak, your voice is steady. “I cannot deny that I still care for him, mother.”

Rhaenyra’s lips press into a thin line, her eyes flashing with pain. She closes her eyes for a moment, as if weighing the burden of her next decision. When she opens them, her gaze is locked on Aemond.

“Do not think for a moment this means I trust you, Aemond,” she says coldly. “But for her sake, I will spare you.” She steps back, but her voice hardens once more. “If you betray her, if you harm her in any way, I will not hesitate to make sure your life ends in fire and blood.”

Aemond bows his head again, the weight of the moment clear in his trembling voice. "Thank you, Your Grace. I will not fail her."

As the tension in the room loosens slightly, you step forward, closer to Aemond. He rises slowly, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you. His hand reaches out, hesitating before lightly brushing your arm, his touch warm and familiar.

“I would have died before hurting you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, but the sincerity in his words makes your heart flutter.

You don’t respond, not with words, but your eyes say enough. There's no simple forgiveness here, no erasing the past, but in this fragile moment, something rekindles. A silent understanding, a promise made long ago that somehow, against all odds, still endures.

And outside, as Vhagar rests near the cliffs, Vermithor watches from the heights of Dragonstone, the two ancient beasts as much a part of your fate as the blood that runs through your veins.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond

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prlssprfctn · 26 days ago

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Hi. It's me again.

So, since there are so many 'Jaybin haunts people' and 'people hallucinate Jaybin' hcs and fics and AUs, what about— after Duke and Jason start getting close (close for Jason and batfamily, at least), Duke starts seeing Jason's core inner self at his side (Jason's).

Maybe as a combination of the long time he was dead, the time he was in coma + the time he was catatonic + all the supernatural/magic shenanigans he went through or has going on, part of Jason's soul/feelings/inner thoughts sometimes takes an astral form when he's feeling too much/thinking something strongly.

It's harmless and doesn't have any side effects. Even more, it would be completely unknown to everyone if Duke hadn't start seeing him.

Now Duke is like one of those chinese novels where a character suddenly can hear someone's monologue and has to fight hard to keep a normal face because the outside doesn't match at all what he's thinking.

In part because he's a super cheesy, squishy plushy pile of slime inside a lot of the time. In part because he doesn't just say the most ridiculous lines unprompted, he also says way more to himself. He's not even trying to be funny, he just thinks like the love child of a shitpost and Shakespeare.

And then there's the things he doesn't say because he thinks everyone already knows. Both as 'one of the things no one talks about' and as 'this is obviously common knowledge, right?'. Just, obscure random facts at the most unexpected time.

There's also the gap between Jaybin, who just hugs him when it's his turn and is over all a really fun kid, and younger Jay, who seems like he needs a hug but would bite you if you tried to touch him, and a teenage Jason, who is older than Jaybin but a few years younger than Jason-Jason and is full of snark and looks just tired. They all have different dispositions but are still very much the same person. Curiously, Duke has yet to see an older Jason that matches his outward looks.

At some point he could also just tell him about the Jay's. He'd be mortified but later he could try to make Duke laugh out loud at the worst moments just by thinking.

wow, this so heartbreaking to read in the early morning you cannot imagine.

the mixture of humour but angst in Jason's head, both unintentional, is killing me. i don't think either of these kids realise just how tiring it could be, to be them, to have their thoughts, to live like this. the can of worms constantly swarming in your thoughts, reminiscing of all things that hurt you, that despair you, and that beginning from the very early age—

imagine standing next to little pre-Robin Jason, and all you hear in his mind is constant questions like: will mom survive tonight? can i scrap us a little more money? will father ever return from the jail? will i die tonight? is there any food?

and then you have Jaybin, whose thoughts a tad lighter — at least, he thinks of books, school, or family — but it eventually spirals as well in: will Bruce kick me out once? am i a washed out Robin? why i am still hungry? why does everyone on galas hate me so much? i miss my mom.

but let me add this: catatonic Jason is there, too. like a ghost, sometimes, he disappears. sometimes, just stares before himself. but there are no much of thoughts. just a repetitive string of Bruce and dad, all over again. and the more you listen to him, the more you start understanding what each of it means in different times.

angst aside! the son of Shakespeare and shitpost is KILLING ME, and it is so incredible real, and i felt it so much. stealing it.

Jason's thoughts jumping from one to another, which results Duke hearing this:

"what a one ends up becoming if his roots are deep in rotten ground and— omg, lmao, babies camels are so funny. wait, they are called calfs. anyway—"

(probably, Jaybin's thoughts during a fight)

#“but does your soul change when you are growing up” ahh core #— lie answering #jason todd #red hood #batman #dcu #dcu comics #dc universe #batfamily #batfam #duke thomas

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ryemiffie · 1 month ago

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I don't think a lot of people realise that Jason would not have just forgiven Bruce, moved on, and been happy to rejoin the family if Batman had killed the Joker during the whole Red Hood monologue thing.

Because then the problem wouldn't be "Why didn't you avenge me?" It would become "Why did I have to ask you to?" There would have still been so many problems they would've had to work through, and I don't think Jason's anger and resentment would've just melted away if Bruce had killed Joker then. It wouldn't have mattered, Jason wanted to be avenged by the loving dad he thought he had, he didn't want to have to beg to feel cared about.

It wasn't just about the action of killing Joker, it's what killing Joker would have meant. If Batman had killed Joker after Jason's death, it would have meant something, it would have meant "you took my son from me and that's a pain I'll die with, so it's a pain you'll die with too." It would have meant he couldn't handle the idea of any other fathers losing their son to such a man, any other parent, any other friend, any other colleague, any other person suffering such a fate. But he didn't do it then. If he killed Joker after Jason had to yell that Joker's death is what he wanted, it wouldn't have met the same thing. The meaning would become, "You're dying today to satiate the anger of the Red Hood, you're death is a bargaining chip, you're death is just to comfort a dead man."

Do I believe Jason would have a moment of relief if Batman had killed Joker in that moment? Yes, but I don't think the relief would be because he believes that Bruce did this because he loves him, and I don't think the relief would last. Not long enough.

After Batman kills Joker in that moment, a smile would spread across Jason's face, a satisfaction, but then that satisfaction would leave him and so would his smile, it would all melt away and he'd be once again stuck with his anger, but now he wouldn't know what to do to fix it, he'd be scared, terrified that nothing could fix him, that nothing could fix the anger and pain of a dead boy, even revenge, even a father's supposed love. He'd cry, the tears would come slow at first, he doesn't know why they're there at first, he doesn't even feel them in the beginning, he thinks perhaps they are happy tears. But then Bruce says his name, not Batman, Bruce, "Jason?" He says, and he sounds scared too, like he doesn't know what to do, not just with Jason but with himself.

Jason realises what he's made his father do, and now he realises it doesn't matter, he feels no different, he doesn't feel loved and cared for, he still feels like a corpse, when Joker's heart stopped Jason's didn't resume. And Jason didn't know why. He had read so many fairytales, when he was young he'd sit in the library for hours devouring books, and when he was in the league he read so much to Damian. All those fairytales, they all said the same thing, to break the curse, to wake the forgotten love, right the wrong, put things how they were meant to be. Why didn't that work? The wrong had been righted, the Joker was dead by the Batman's hand at his son's order, why didn't he feel better than? Because this wasn't a fairytale, this was gotham, this was the curse of loving a man like Batman, he'll never love you back, and if he does? It'll always be too late.

Jason cries, it's ugly, it's painful, it's neverending. And Batman hugs him, he clings to his son's body, holds him as close as possible in the hope it'll save the both of them from the darkness that spills from their souls, but Bruce knows it won't, and Jason now does too. Nothing could fix Jason, nothing could comfort him, nothing could stop the violent anger that burned within him, and now he had condemned his father to the same fate. As he sobbed he yelled, "Why didn't you kill him all those years ago?! Why did I have to claw my way out of my own grave to get you to care?! Why did I have to beg you to end the pain?!" He was mad, so mad, and it didn't go away when the Joker died, it just went deeper, rooted itself further into him, tore its way through his soul till the thing was rotten in pieces with grief. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, this should have fixed things, this should have made things better, but it didn't, it wasn't fair. Quietly, no longer yelling, he whispers into his father's impenetrable suit of armour, "Why does it still hurt?" There's no answer, he doesn't expect one.

Soon he will break out of Bruce's hold, he will run and never look back, he will hide and he will cry for days, he will pray Bruce doesn't come looking, because if he has to see his father now, after what's happened, he may just die again.

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serpenlupus · 5 months ago

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I want Sentinel to suffer, and then to die in darkness.

I've been thinking about this line for a while now,

"No, I want to kill him! I want to put Sentinel in chains and march him through the mines so everyone can see him for the false Prime that he is! I want him to suffer, and then to die in darkness."

I find this sentence so revealing about the general Miner's state of mind.

Because, make no mistake, the movie is telling us in no uncertain terms, that the Miners are expected to die doing their job. And also, that they're punished if they don't accept this. Because the system views them as expendable, and tries its best to convince them as well.

The scene of the cave in shows this perfectly; protocol demands that a trapped miner be left behind, even if that means their death. Elita says it outright when Orion comunicates that Jazz is stuck: "Do not break protocol, EVACUATE" a.k.a, leave him. And maybe it's becase the only ones near Jazz at that moment were Dee and Orion, but the thing is, none of the other miners show any attempt to go in and help them. They remain still even when they see them near the exit while Elita does everything in her power to keep it open, to the point that it's D-16 the one that has to tackle her away from it when they're going out (also D-16 punching the walls of rock out of the way? Danm son).

The narrative is showing us that stopping to help is the exception, not the rule, and we can presume that if Jazz had been accompanied by different bots, he would have died. It took two of them to barely get him out of there. And man, you cannot tell me that Orion Pax never had to come to terms with the fact that if the one trapped in one of those tunnels was either him or Dee, one would have to choose between staying behind to save the other, possibly dying in the attemp, or leave their friend behind to save himself.

I want Sentinel to suffer, and then to die in darkness." - D-16.

We know that Orion could never live with this knowledge and do nothing about it. Because if he was in that scenario, he could not leave Dee, nor could he accept to be the cause of his end. So it gives additional meaning to his actions on the movie.

Because, sure, the movie presents Orion Pax as sort of bull headed and self centered (D-16 certainly calls those out as flaws), but his motives may not be so selfish as we're led to believe at first glance. He wants to find the Matrix of Leadership, not because he will be hailed as a hero if he does so, but because

"We will have to stop mining for energon" (We will stop having to die to find energon).

"We are meant for more than this" ( We are meant for more than to die in the mines).

"Don't you want to choose your own path, be able to do whatever we want?" (I don't want us to die)

It's always a "we". Because, after all, he doesn't want to see Dee die in the mines (or any of his friends, I dare say). This desperate desire to save D-16, and not just himself, is what puts the plot into motion. And he tries to save him by attempting to find the Matrix, but Orion also looks for ways to bring small joys to D-16 in the day to day, like bringing him the sticker, or participating in the race. Of course you could argue that he brought Dee to the race despite his protests because he wanted someone that he knew would watch out for him, I won't deny that, BUT, counterargument:

Look at his smile. This dude is having the time of his life participating in a race with his boyfriend and you can take that truth from my dead cold hands.

What I mean to say with all this, is that the movie tries to tell us in subtle ways that while both are trying to save the other, they're funtamentally different. D-16 is saving Orion from more inmediate problems, like hiding him from the guards, looking out for him in the mines and the race, etc. He has accepted the place they have in that society and he is resigned to it, because he thinks there's no other option. Meanwhile Orion is looking to save D-16 in a long term sort of way, by changing the Status Quo, because he refuses to accept that there are no other options.

They both cared so much for the other that they kept trying to keep the other safe in the only way they could fathom.

AND THEN THIS HAPPENS

This fucking movie

#transformers #transformers one #tfone #tf one spoilers #megatron #d-16 #orion pax #maccadam #transformers talk #tf one megatron #tf one optimus

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oceansoul001 · 2 months ago

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Couple of random thoughts regarding KCD2 last conversation with Hans.

[Spoilers!!!]

1. You can have this conversation either still in Suchdol (after talking to Sir Hanush) or in the Devil's Den post credits. They don't differ beside last topic ("What are your plans now?") that is removed if you choose the latter.

2. Generally there is not much of a difference between romance and non-romance paths. Romanced Hans tells you everything that the non-romanced does, just adds a few unique sentences. You can probably notice switch of tone in "What are we going to do about the wedding" topic, for the romanced lines: "I'm not sure what to do... after what happened, you know...? I mean... me and you... I suppose we'll just have to wait and see how things turn out..." I find this reaction very believable given the situation, I recon they both need some time to sort things in their heads, as the ongoing siege/bringing reinforcements didn't leave them much time and space for reflection. So I am very okay with them not discussing the topic further at this point. And, I know this might sound strange, but I also really like that there are no love confessions at this point, I greatly dislike it when games throw them at me after literally one night spent together with someone.

BUT. Directly after this part comes the non-romance part where Hans worries about his bride being ugly and then proceeds to talk about naming his son after Henry, and I don't know... I mean, yeah, we all are aware of the fact that Hans most probably still has to get married, and have an heir, and it does not matter at all whether something happened between him & Henry, or not, but is this really the thing he would casually say at this moment...? Okay, maybe he would, it's Hans. But what is even more bizarre to me is my Henry, who is happily babbling as if nothing has changed at all, even though like a minute ago he was this awkward mess thanking Hans for "the encouragement". So what I'm trying to say is, I would prefer at least for Henry to act/respond differently in the romanced version and remain more awkward throughout this convo. But maybe I'm overthinking this! 😅

3. Another difference in the romance path occurs when discussing Hans' injury, as only in this version Henry asks if he can take a look at the wound later, and I think it is so sweet. Very minor detail, but I love it. ❤️

4. The thing that I definitely don't like is asking Hans about his talk with Hanush, and Hans responding with "You don't need to know everything", like??? My guy. Please. You've just shared with me probably the most intimate and secretive moment OF YOUR LIFE, and now you don't want to tell me some shit about Hanush, even though it is not even a secret and like everyone in Rattay already knows (your own words!). I don't get it at all, why in the romance path this still requires a speech check and why is Hans so weird about not telling me "everything", even though mere hours ago he was ready to die from grief if I don't come back 😭

5. Speaking of dying, romanced Hans can say the following at the beginning of your conversation: "I'm glad nothing happened to you. That would have killed me", but it only happens if Sam does not survive. So not in my game, as I would never leave my brother behind. Hans can also admit that he was jealous of Sam, which for me was very clear during the game, but also under the condition that Sam does not survive.

6. Last, but not least - I wish we could have another conversation with romanced Hans after couple in-game days pass, after we both have had a chance to collect our thoughts. Nothing groundbreaking, just something short and sweet, and you know, maybe get the possibility to share a kiss in our room at the Devil's Den when we want... I know it might sound greedy, or silly, after all we've just got this perfect, almost unreal relationship at all, but nothing can stop me from dreaming. 🥹

Happy to hear your thoughts on the subject! ❤️

#kingdom come deliverance 2 spoilers #kingdom come deliverance 2 #kcd2 #henry of skalitz #hans capon #hansry #henry x hans

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katerinaaqu · 9 months ago

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The Humanity of Odysseus and the Importance of the Curse of Polyphemus (an Odyssey Analysis on Fate and Destiny)

I believe there is one thig that needs to be said about the Odyssey and Odysseus in particular and something I have rarely seen properly adapted. It is the importance of the unchangable fate in antiquity in general and homeric poems in particular. One can say this starts from the character itself; Odysseus name meaning "Anger Bringer" or "Furious" is an indicator that not only the character will be dusliked by many but that he would also cause anger which one can expect would lead to terrible consequences. However I believe the moment Odysseus was truly deprived of all his choices was the infamous Curse of Polyphemus:

In Rhapsody/Book 9 of the Odyssey, Odysseus describes his misadventure with the cyclops Polyphemus and when he revealed himself to him, Polyphemus prays to his father, Poseidon, giving Odysseus a double-curse (as it happens to most predictions that have at least two ways they can go) which goes like this:

"I call upon you, Poseidon, Earth-bearer with cyan/black/dark hair, if I am your son and you wish to be my father (you wish to be called my father), do it for me so that Odysseus the Sacker of Cities will never reach his home, the son of Laertes who calls Ithaca his home, but if fate calls for him to see his friends and reach his well-built home and his ancestral land, make it so it will be terrible (here return), that he will lose all his companions and in a foreign ship and find misery waiting for him at his home!"

(Translation by me)

So as you can see the curse has two different outcomes

He will never see his home again

If he does, it will be without his companions brought by a foreign ship and he will find misery at his own home when he arrives

At this point, given that the story is "in media res" aka "told from the middle", we know now that the second part is fulfilled, or almost fulfilled. Odysseus is in Scheria, he is alone, he is shipwrecked, there is no sign of any of his companions anywhere so we expect him to return at this foreign ship, aka a Phaeacaean ship to his home at any moment. However by the moment the curse is placed, Odysseus doesn't know which outcome is to befall upon him. And while the second part is weirdly specific (and in a way preparing us for the outcome) the first one is not nearly speficic enough!

Make it so he never sees his land again.

This could mean anything; does he get killed in the ardous trip? Does he get straddled to a place for the rest of his life? Does he somehow lose his...memory and never return home again (similarly to how his men ate the Lotuses at the Lotophagi land)? What is more, nowhere in this part does it say his comrades will survive the ordeal. Although the curse means specifically for Odysseus not reaching his home and one could assume his men would but not Odysseus, that is not guaranteed.

Both of these scenarios are terribly gloom for both Odysseus and his men. So what does Odysseus do? He does what every human being would have done;

He tries to change fate!

He tries constantly to lift the curse:

Even if he knows deep down is pointless, even if he more or less has realized they are off for an arduous trip that will cost them probably all of them their lives, Odysseus STILL TRIES to change the fate! He sails off to find help. He goes to Aiolus and asks for help. He gets the bag. At this point Odysseus is at the end of his wits. He has a chance, he thinks, to change fate, to change the curse. He remains awake for 9 days to make sure he will (see also my other analysis in regards to that) and yet it is all in vain. His men open the bag JUST A LITTLE BEFORE they reach Ithaca and pushed back.

At this point it becomes all the more clear that they are up for an endless journey or a settlement away from home at best case scenario and all to die at worst case scenario. Odysseus doesn't give up! He asks AGAIN, this time he is denied.

And then comes destruction...

They reach the idland of the giant Laistrygonians and here Odysseus suffers the worst loss he has suffered so far; he loses 11 out of his 12 ships in a single raid and barely manages to escape with the rest of his comrades resting on his ship. Right now is clearer than ever that the curse is taking place so the real question is; which of the parts shall it be fulfulled? And they reach the land of Circe. Plenty of his men turn into pigs. Eurylochus barely escapes doom and runs at him to tell him "LEAVE THEM AND GO". Odysseus knows in his bones they are doomed! He knows he either leaves them and fulfulles the second prophecy (for his men already perish little by little) or either way the first part of the prophecy is fulfilled. What does Odysseus do?

He tries AGAIN!

He sells himself to Circe, he requests his men's freedom. He ASKS Circe for advice, he descends the Underworld, asks Tiresias for a course; how he can reach his home, how he can save his men, how he can REVERSE THE CURSE. Even if he knows it is impossible to challenge fate (not even Zeus could transcend fate). In a way he comits a form of hubris hoping to change fate. And yet he is HUMAN! He cannot accept that his men would die that he cannot go home. He wants to TRY! So sure enough he gets a possible way out...

Tiresias gives him hope...

The prophet tells him he can save his men AND reach Ithaca IF they do not eat the cattle of Helios Hyperion. What is more Circe gives him advice for the trip; the course they can follow, the steps they can take and again the warning of NOT eating the cattle of Helios. Odysseus takes heart to those, he DESPERATELY GRABS on them! He thinks he has a chance. Maybe...JUST MAYBE he can reverse this terrible curse! He can MAKE IT RIGHT! He has a chance to change fate! He has a chance to reverse it!

Self-Fulfilled Prophecy

Little does he know though that the trip is already set for failiure. Skylla claims 6 of his best men (his men CONTINUE TO PERISH) and yet Odysseus thinks that this is a sign that he can make it, that the terrible sacrifices will pay off and that he is on his way to break the curse. He is following the instructions therefore it must go well. And come the Cattle Of Helios Hyperion.

An attempt to dodge fate...

Odysseus tells to his men that they should not stop at the island now. He is not ready to take another risk. He will not do the same as the sack of Aiolus. He wants to AVOID THE ISLE ALTOGETHER. If his men are not tepted, they will not break. He intends to keep going and it could have worked...but...

Sure enough his men are tired they need to stop

Odysseus has no choice. At this point he probably realizes there is no way to change fate. He sees it now that everything is up for destruction and he still doesn't know WHICH VERSION will be fulfulled! And even if every part of his brain tells him everything is lost Odysseus REFUSES TO GIVE UP! No, this cannot be the end! There must still be time and space to reverse it!

He makes them promise

Odysseus makes his men swear to everything sacred that no matter what they shall not touch the cattle. That they would survive only with the provisions given by Circe, that they will not be tempted no matter what. Sure enough he extracts the promise from them but of course the prophecy is now moving. Wind is opposite. There is no way they can go. They get straddled for WEEKS. Food is over. Odysseus sees the path is for destruction and yet...

HE TRIES AGAIN!

He goes to the island to pray! There MUST be another way! The gods can hear him...maybe pity him and release them from this! And yet he falls asleep from fatigue, stress and godly intervention. Now the clock is ticking! His men cannot withstand hunger anymore and slay the cattle. Now their fate is shielded. We now know they will die. We know also which part of the prophecy will be fulfulled; Odysseus will come home ALONE, just like we see him narrating alone (even if we might as well wonder whether Odysseus would remain in Scheria, it is pretty much settled that Odysseus returns to Ithaca). However Odysseus doesn't know...but what he fears the most has happened

One last desperate attempt.

Odysseus is human above all. He sees the slain animals, he KNOWS his men will die and even that time he REFUSES to accept it! He REFUSES to give up! He sets sail again, hoping to save them, to save them all (himself included) as they roam for 7 days in the sea

And doom strikes...

His men all perish, his ship is gone! Odysseus is left alone in the sea, fighting for 10 days to the brief of death. Right now Odysseus is no longer struggling to change fate...he is no longer struggling to save anyone but himself...he is struggling

...SO THAT AT LEAST THE FATE IN STORE FOR HIM IS HIS RETURN...

He now has suffered the ultimate loss. He needs to at least make it home! Even if that means without companions, even if that means to be home in misery...he just HAS TO GO HOME! He cannot just perish in the sea or be forever straddled outside Ithaca! And then Calypso happens. Odysseus is left in her isle for 7 years.

He now fears he will never see his home again

He cries every day on the beach. His rape every night is strong enough reason for him to do so but also the fact that he now FEARS that the first section of the prophecy is fullfilled; that he is never to see his home and friends and family again. That his fate was not to perish in the sea but to be forever held against his will away from his beloved home and family. And he is filled with despair. When he has lost all hope that he will ever roam about the sea again; with at least SOME HOPE that the second part of the curse would be fulfilled, he is ready to throw himself in the sea; give an end to his life since there is no point in hoping anymore. The worst scenario has happened for him. He has nothing else to expect...

And it is so...till Hermes brings the order to release him. Now Odysseus finds hope anew that he will return. And he struggles with all his might to survive! Even if he is days out in the sea in a small raft. Even when his raft is destroyed and he has to literally swim to Scheria. his mind goes "NO! I WILL NOT PERISH! I WILL GO HOME!" and sure enough he does and he does meet his friends again and he does find this misery at his home and yet now Odysseus can endure this misery, because he knows he managed to get home and he knows that he has left but ONE TASK according to Tiresias.

He tried to beat fate and he failed...but now he has hope...

So as you see, and forgive me for the long analysis, Odysseus is more human than anyone can imagine and always relatable character. Despite his flaws and mistakes one of the noblest mistakes he made was to think he could change fate and dedicate a large part of his trip trying to do just that; change the curse and save his companions which only ends up to a self-fulfilled prophecy but I doubt anyone can deny that we would all have done the same. I doubt any of us would just abandon all hope and sit tight waiting for the prophecy to be filled either way. He would all have tried to change such a grim outcome!

Because we are human. And so was Odysseus.

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huggybearhughes43 · 10 months ago

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all three boys cause i’m a dirty slut for the hughes brothers 🙇🏽‍♀️🙇🏽‍♀️

I know if I go, I’ll die happy tonight

Hughes brothers x Fem! Reader

This is pt.3 of my Hughes brothers series here’s pt.2 and pt.1 for context!

Warnings- smut, raw dawgin, anal, oral (f and m! Receiving), cream pie, cum swallowing, foursome, lowkey a lot of cutsie fluff

Summary- Jack and Luke convince reader to go to the lake house with them, even though she knows the second she’s face to face with the oldest brother that she’d be embarrassed.

Word count- 3.6k

My head leaned against the window of jacks back seat with my legs propped up on Luke’s. Somehow, the pair had convinced me to stay at the lake house for a week. In which means, I am to stay with all three brothers as well as their parents. Adding to that, god knows Jack invited Trevor as well as Cole. The feeling of Luke rubbing his hand back and forth on my ankle and the sound of Jack humming along to a song on the radio puts my right to sleep.

My eyes flutter open at a familiar feeling of a turn into the driveway of the lake house. I sit up as Jack parks the car. I look at Luke, a frown playing on my face. “Just kill me now and save me the embarrassment of seeing Quinn.” Luke smiles and nudges me, “it won’t be that bad, he’s a gentleman.” Luke holds his pinky out, “I pinky promise.” I sigh and unlock my pinky with his before stepping out of the car. Luke grabs my bag and his before making his way inside. I follow quickly after him.

The second I walk through the front door I run smack into someone’s chest. I apologize, stepping back and looking up at the person, my hands on their chest to stable myself. My face flushes and I mentally curse myself. “Hey, Quinn.” I realize my hands were still on his chest and I quickly take them back. “Hey, y/n.” He smirks, “you seem tense.” I roll my eyes. “If you think you’re funny, you’re not.” Both of our attentions are pulled away from each other when Jim and Ellen walk in.

I smile and walk up to them, pulling them into a hug. My family knew theirs since we were kids, practically growing up with the Hughes and counting their parents as a second pair to me. Jim and Ellen and Hug me back tightly and speak that they were going to their room to but their things away. I nod, smiling at them as they walk away. I was truly happy to see them. The happiness moment, soiled by Quinn. His arms were crossed on his chest as he smirked meanly, “do they know what you’ve been sneaking around to do with their sons, because I think they should kn-“ “Quinn, leave her alone.” Luke cuts him off as he enters the room. The older brother shrugs, “I’m just saying.”

“Do they know you said you wanted a turn?” I shrug and walk past the two brothers. “Just saying.” I walk up the flight of stairs and into the room I’d be staying in. Ever since I was a kid, I shared the room with Luke while at their home, that seemed to have transferred over to the lake house. I sit on the bed, rubbing my eyes. My head perks up when I hear the door crack open. Luke walks in, scratching his neck, “I’m sorry about him.” I shake my head, “don’t be” I flip backwards to lay down on the bed. “But what happened to him being a gentleman?” Luke laughs as my words, I feel the bed dip down as Luke crawls up the bed to lay down next to me. “I thought he would be.” He explains as he traces shapes on the part of my chest exposed from the tank top I was wearing.

I turn my head to look at Luke, smiling when our eyes meet. “It’s okay” I mumble before pressing my lips to his. After a moment of enjoying his soft kisses, he pulls away. He props head up on the palm of his hand, his other hand using its thumb to rub my cheek. “Jack and Quinn were asking me if I wanted to take the beat out on a test drive tonight, wanna come?” “That sounds like hell.” Luke smiles, “pretty please?” I sigh at Luke’s pleading tone. “Fine.” I sit up in the bed. He smiles and hugs me from behind, kissing pecks on my neck. “Thank you.”

The sun peaked through the windows in Luke and I’s shared room as I unpack my clothes. I was alone, looking through my swimsuits as Jack walks into the room. “Luke and Quinn are getting the boat ready, it’ll get cold tonight on the water you should probably change.” I nod to his words, telling him I heard but he stops in the doorway. “Can’t wait to see you in those.” He laughs jokingly as he eyes my bathing suits. “Jack?” I bat my eyelashes at him convincingly. He swallows, “yeah?” My expression drops, “get out.” Jack huffs dramatically and leaves the room, closing the door behind him for privacy.

I put on some sweatpants and a white t shirt before making my way down the stairs and out into the backyard. “Stay safe, sweetie! Don’t let those boys be bad influences.” Ellen calls from the kitchen, I turn to reassure her that I’d be safe. I turn back around and exit through the back door, walking through their back yard to the dock. Luke holds out his hand as I approach the boat. I thank him and grab his hand as I step into the boat. Quinn was at the wheel while Jack was sitting at the back of the boat. Luke leads me to sit down with him at the front, pulling me flush against his chest as Quinn starts the boat. I adjust myself to lay down, using Luke as a pillow.

I bask in the remainder of the days sun while Quinn finds a place to anchor. My eyes only open to realize the sun has set completely when Quinn stops the boat. I look back as Jack tosses the anchor over the edge of the back of the boat. Luke stands up moments after I sit up. I look up at him questionable as he tugs his shirt off. “What are you-“ I’m cut off my Luke doing a front flip into the water off the side of the boat. The splash from impact soaks me. I gasp and stand up. Luke re-emerges from the water laughing, knowing exactly what he just did.

Jack follows soon after, doing the exact same thing as Luke. “Come on, y/n! The waters not that cold!” Luke shouts from the water. I cross my arms and shake my head, muttering no. I gasp when I feel a hand loop around my waist. Quinn lifts me tightly, not letting me get out of his grasp, no matter how much I struggle. “Quinn, wait! Wait- stop!” He walks over the edge not budging as I try to wiggle out of his grasp. The two boys in the water cheer Quinn on. “Wait!” I shout, trying to hold onto Quinn’s shoulders but I’m too late as he tosses me into the lake. I gasp for air as I come back up. “You asshole!” I shout up to Quinn who was still the on the boat. He laughs and follows what the other two brothers did. He tugs off his shirt and jumps off the side into the water with us.

I wipe the water off of my face from the splash. When Quinn comes up for air I splash him. “You’re an asshole” I repeat and he laughs again. “You’re just being dramatic.” I notice the other two boys swimming towards the boat to get back on and I follow them. I climb up the ladder with Quinn presumably close behind. The second I step back onto the boat Jack whistles. Luke’s face was a bright shade of pink as he covers his mouth in attempt to hold back his laugh. I don’t put two and two together until Quinn walks past me and looks down at my chest, shaking his head with a smile on his face.

I quickly realize my stupid mistake, covering my chest with my arms. “All of you are assholes.” I huff, my decision of not wearing a bra under my big shirt due to comfortability was not on my side at the moment. Quinn tosses me his shirt and for a moment I remember why he was the favored brother. I mumble a “thank you” before I tug it over myself. I sit back down where I was before but this time without Luke. I wrap my arms around myself to shield myself from the bitter cold air. Quinn takes the anchor out of the water and steers the boat back to the dock.

As soon as the rope of the boat is tied to the dock, I jump off of the boat, making my way inside to the warmth. I rush up into the room I was staying in. I pull off Quinn’s shirt, tossing it on the bed with a plan to return it later. I take off my wet clothes, tossing them in a clothes basket before running into the connected bathroom. I take a brisk shower to rid of the lingering lake scent. I step out and wrap a towel around myself, exiting the bathroom and into the room to see Luke on the bed. I was just about to remove my towel to get dress when Jack barges into the room. My bones almost jump out of my skin at the fright.

“Jesus Christ, Jack, what is your problem?” I scoff at him and he just smiles then looks at Luke. “Mom and dad are asleep.” I look back and forth between the two of them in disbelief to what they were suggesting. Luke looks at me and smilies softly, “come here.” I roll my eyes and do as he says, crawling onto the bed and onto his lap, clutching the towel at my chest so it doesn’t fall. Luke places his hand over mine to move it, “it’s not like Jack hasn’t seen you before.” I sigh and allow him to remove the towel from me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Luke whispers before attacking my neck with kisses. I let out a sigh, tangling my hands in his hair. I feel the bed dip down as Jack moves towards us. Jacks hands find my waist, just above Luke’s that were on my hips. Jack presses his lips to mine hungrily. One hand moves from Luke’s hair to jacks, deepening the kiss. I was so lost in a trance that I didn’t hear the footsteps walking into the room. Only when I feel another dip in the bed is when I realize someone else has joined us. My brain was too foggy to realize who it was until he spoke up. “Starting without me?” He scoffs, “assholes.”

Quinn presses up against my back, resting his chin on my shoulder as he reaches around my waist. He presses a soft kiss to my shoulder before harshly pressing his thumb to my clit. He laughs mockingly at me when I moan so loud against jacks lips that he could hear. As if the brothers knew what each other were thinking by mere looks, Jack leans away and Quinn gets up. I whine at the lost contact, Luke quieting me by pressing his lips to mine. Luke scoots us down a bit so he could lay down, pulling me down with him. Luke reaches down between us to pulls his shorts down enough to line himself up as the other to brothers take their spots back, their clothes somewhere on the floor.

I ease all the way down on Luke’s hard cock before I feel Quinn’s hands on me again. Jack traces his thumb over my cheek before cupping my chin and pulling me away from Luke’s lips. Before I could complain Jack presses his dick against my lips. Without a second thought, I open my mouth for him. Jack grabs my hair harshly, moving my head in a rhythm to his liking. Luke presses soft, sweat kisses onto my shoulder. Quinn’s hands wander all over my body, it was as if he were trying to memorize every mole, every stretch mark.

“Think you can take one more, baby girl?” Quinn asks softly, easing his hands over my shoulder blades. I moan out against jacks dick earning a laugh to fall from the middle boys lips. “I think that was a yes.” He tells Quinn. Quinn scoffs and pushes at jacks chest, “you prick, let her speak.” Jacks sighs a reluctantly pulls his dick out of my mouth. I gasp for air before speaking, my hips still being moved my Luke back and forth onto his dick, “yes! Yes- Quinn please.” I whine before I was muffled my jacks dick once again.

“Good girl.” Quinn leans down to press a kiss onto my back. “Wouldn’t wanna do anything you’re not okay with.” Quinn spits on his fingers, leading them down to press against my ass. Tears form in my eyes as he eases his fingers into me slowly, my moans muffled by Jack. Quinn presses soft kisses along my back, trying to make me as comfortable as possible with the foreign feeling. “I’ve got you.” He whispers before pulling his fingers away and lining up his dick where they once were.

No matter how much he wanted to go fast, Quinn slowly entered me. Luke momentarily stopped his moments to not chance hurting me. The stretch hurt but the feeling of his soft rubbing on my back made it bearable. He bottomed out, reaching up to wipe a tear from my face. The second Luke started moving my hips again and Quinn’s slow thrusts, I moan out repeatedly against jacks dick that was still down my throat. The matched pace between the brother instantly throws me over the edge. The clenching of my cunt makes Luke throw his head back, the two of our orgasms happening together. He cums deep inside of me, not stopping his thrusts until I’m worked through my orgasm.

Luke pulls out of me, not wanting to hurt me with overstimulation but his brothers weren’t helping. Jack holds my head all the way down on his cock, my nose pressed against his pelvis as he shoots his load down my throat. I do my best to swallow all of it as he pulls out. Jack laughs softly and wipe the remainder that dripped down my chin with his finger before pressing it into my mouth. I suck his thumb clean before pulling away. The quickening thrusts from Quinn have me pressing my head into Luke’s shoulder, muffling my moans. A few more thrusts and Quinn’s cums into my ass.

He breathlessly pulls away, pressing one more kiss to my back before pulling away to put his clothes back on. Jack does the same while Luke whispers praises about how I did so good into my ear. “Clean her up for us, Luke?” Quinn teases, causing Jack to laugh before they both exit to room to presumably go to bed in their own rooms. Luke plays me onto the bed by myself before going into the bathroom for a rag. He comes back, pressing soft kisses all over my face before he reaches down and cleans up my fucked out folds. Luke pulls me comfortably into him when he finishes cleaning me up. I fall asleep almost immediately into his arms.

There was no sign of the sun when I awoke. I sigh, sitting up. I rub my face and decide to go downstairs for a glass of water, slipping on Quinn’s shirt that I’ve still yet to return. “Hey Jack” I say as I see the familiar face in the kitchen. “Hey,” he takes a sip from his drink, leaning against the counter. “I’m surprised you can still walk.” He teases and I just roll my eyes. I grab a water bottle from the fridge, sitting on the counter as I drink it, opposite from Jack. Jack moves from his spot, walking to stand in between my legs. I sit my water bottle down and wait for him to do something. He stares down at me for a moment before he sinks down to his knees.

I bite my bottom lip as I watch him. My hand instinctively traps itself into his hair. “Jack” I whisper but he doesn’t respond, too busy pressing kisses into my thighs, “what if someone comes down stairs?” “You better be quiet then.” He mumbles against my inner thigh. Without warning, he presses his mouth against my cunt harshly. I throw my head back, trying my best to hold back my moans as I tug his hair. “Tastes so fucking good.” He mumbles. The way he moves his tongue along my folds, sucking my clit every time he gets to it, has me going mad.

I bite down on my bottom lip harshly. “Jack.” I whisper out to mask a moan. His eyes look up at me innocently as if he weren’t doing such a vulgar act. I throw my head back, trying to push my hips further into his face as if to get impossibly closer to him. My jaw drops as my legs shake around his head, my hands dropping from his hair to brace myself on the counter. His movements not faltering as my juices coat his face. He works me through my orgasm, not stopping until I have to physically push him away. Jack stands back up, licking the remaining juices off of his lips.

I hop off the counter as I chug the remainder of my water bottle, not wanting any waste. I turn back to Jack, standing in my tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips in a peck. “Go to sleep.” I say quietly before turning to return to my own room. I close the door behind me before climbing onto the bed and returning to my rightful spot in Luke’s arms. His arms pull me closer to him, the comfortableness forcing me to fall asleep quickly.

The birds chirping out the window soon me up from my sleep, the comfortable look on Luke’s face not wanting me to leave him resting. I silently wiggle out of his arms, looking into the drawers I put my clothes in for any shorts. I find a presentable pair of denim shorts and I figure putting on a swim suit now would save me of the hassle later. I find a random black swimsuit I packed and figure it’ll do. I pull off Quinn’s t shirt, tossing it to the side so I can put the bikini on. I pull his shirt back on, followed by the shorts before opening the door to make my way down stairs.

I’m greeted by Ellen and Jim in the kitchen preparing breakfast. “Smells good” I compliment, smiling at the couple. “Thank you, honey… coffees ready if you want some.” I nod and thank her, filling a mug with coffee and mixing it to my likings. I take the cup outside, wanting to enjoy the view of the lake when I drink it. The second I step out of the door I spot Quinn sitting on a bench at the docks. I smile to myself and decide to join him. I walk to the dock with the mug in my hands.

“Good morning.” I say softly as I take the seat next to him. “Morning” he looks me up and down and smiles, “is the shirt that comfortable?” He teases and I shrug, “it smells like you.” He stares at me for a moment, “did I hurt you? I mean… last night, did I?” I smile at his worried tone and shake my head. “No, you didn’t I promise.” He nods “good” then he goes quiet again. He looks back at me and sighs.

“Any chance I had with you is ruined now, isn’t it?” I shrug, “I dunno if I could bring myself to date any of you.” He reaches his hand up to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear as I sip the coffee. I look at him and smile, “you were the reason this all happened in the first place.” He furrows his brows, “what?” “Jack and Luke were jealous that I had a crush on you.” I laugh, “that’s why he went bragging to you after, I guess.” Quinn cracks a smile, nodding along to my words.

I finish up my coffee and Quinn notices quickly, “wanna go back inside?” I nod and stand up with him. Before we start our walk back I look up at him bashfully. “What?” He laughs. I grab onto the collar of his shirt and bring him down to a soft and sweet kiss. He pulls away with a happy yet confused expression on his face as if asking why. “I had to kiss you before I had the chance to think rationally.” He laughs and grabs onto my hand, leading me inside.

Ellen and Jim were outside eating a delicious looking breakfast. “Breakfast is inside.” Jim smiles and I nod, thanking them once again. I walk into the kitchen and see the two other Hughes brothers stuffing their faces. Before I could even grab a plate from the cabinet Jack speaks up. “I gotta know, who fucks better.” I scoff and roll my eyes. “I can’t answer that.” I grab my plate and grab some food before giving Luke a knowing look that makes his face grow hot.

The look is cut short by a light pounding on the front door. Jack nearly falls on to his face with how fast he stands up. He makes his way to the door, opening it just to be attacked in a hug by his two best friends. After the initial attack, Trevor walks past Jack and into the kitchen. Trevor leans on the counter next to Luke, looking me up at down. “Well don’t you look as hot as ever.” He flirts. “Back off” both the oldest and the youngest Hughes boys both say. Trevor’s eyes widen and I have to cover my mouth to suppress a laugh.

#smut #hockey smut #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes smut #jack hughes smut #quinn hughes smut #vancouver canucks

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